The Celestial Conversion
by Ariannette
Summary: A week of falling stars have been forecasted to appear in the Princeton-Plainsboro sky, and without realizing it, House wishes upon one. A wish which dramatically changes the life of two people at PPTH.


**This little ficlet has been on my mind for a while. While I was reading 'Me Before You' recently, I found myself wondering what if House's pain got so bad, he decided to seek out the services of Dignitas? BEFORE you freak out- this does not have a sad ending- its actually more humorous, and its partly inspired by a certain Lindsay Lohan/ Jamie Lee Curtis movie. So anyway, sorry for my rant. But here's the first part (its a two part fic), please share your thoughts! PS. I apologize in advance- I'm a little rusty on Huddy.**

* * *

 **The Celestial Conversion**

 **Part 1**

"Are you going to watch the stars tonight?" Cuddy overheard Wilson ask a new nurse intern at the Clinic front desk.

Normally, she would have minded her own business, and walked away to her office, avoiding any part in his flirtatious cheating. Because Cuddy was friends with his wife Julie, enough where she felt responsibility of letting her know if her husband were running astray.

"What stars?" The intern asked, cluelessly.

Wilson's boyish smile appeared, and Cuddy noted the indent of his dimples, "There's going to be a meteor shower for a week, starting tonight. It's going to be close to the Hercules star constellation."

"Are you an astrologist?" the young girl asked, clearly taken by his astronomy knowledge.

Cuddy grabbed the first patient file she could find and pretended to immerse herself in it, hiding the amusement her face surely showed. But when she opened it up, her eyebrows furrowed at the hard marks House had made while writing.

 _Idiot's shoes are too small._

She scoffed, a hint of a smirk spreading on her lips for a moment, before realizing how hard he'd indented his pain on to the paper. It was a classic sign of his pain, and it was getting worse lately. Her smile dropped, letting her lips fall into a thin line.

"Checking up on my charting?" House's voice startled her, and she jumped, moving around to look at him.

His tone sounded playful, but she noted the edge of bitterness laced within it. And as her eyes fell on him, she could see his irritation in the way his fingertips tapped the counter, and how he folded his lip inside his mouth, awaiting her answer.

Cuddy swallowed and raised an eyebrow, moving the file in her hands, "Well, its more than I expected."

His eyes gave her an empty look and he scoffed, then turned around to walk away with a very prominent, worsening limp.

She'd been right about his charting, it was a sign of increased pain. She sighed, and licked her lips, "Are you ok?"

House didn't look back, just kept walking straight into one of the clinic rooms, with an audible, "Peachy."

xxxoxxxo

Later that day

It had been over a week since she had shot a syringe of saline down House's spine. At first, she'd been able to tell he was trying to cope. There was still increased pain, and it showed in his creased eyebrows, or how his knuckles would turn white from griping his cane too hard. However, the most obvious clue was his thinning patience.

Still, Cuddy refused to believe it wasn't psychosomatic. House's refusal to deal with the pain of letting Stacy go, caused his psychological pain to expose itself in a different form- physically. And his solution had been to up his pain medication. It was all those things- Cuddy reminded herself, every time they'd interact.

And it was for all those reasons she let things slide, knowing the bigger picture was more important- his work was crucial to the success of her hospital. At least, that was until Cameron walked into her office with peculiar news, something so strange, that Cuddy would have never imagined.

"But…are you sure?" she heard herself asking, staring at the blinds of her office, in awe at what Cameron had just said.

"Positive. I…knew something was going on- I don't know how to explain it, but…I just figured I would check- and I looked through his browsing history, because I noticed him reading something earlier. He was on the contact page of the Dignitas…he even wrote down the phone number and was looking at flights to Switzerland."

Cuddy felt as if she'd had the wind knocked out of her, and swallowed, "I know he's in pain, but…suicide? House wouldn't do that- there has to be another explanation."

"I'm worried about him," Cameron whispered.

Cuddy inhaled deeply and stood up straight, turning over to look at her, "No one can find out- not even Wilson, understood?"

The young doctor nodded.

"I'll talk to him myself- there has to be another explanation."

xxxoxxxo

A little while later…

It didn't take much longer for Cuddy to have a legitimate reason to visit House's office. Some time that afternoon his seventeen-year-old patient, Spencer, died and the death had no doubt been the stressor behind his increased cantankerous mood, which had caused him to explode in front of an audience.

It was the careless mistake of not locking the IV plunge box, which resulted in boy overdosing on morphine when no one had been looking. Afterwards, House had found out his patient Spencer had a history with narcotics, and it was at that point which he'd bluntly- in a busy hallway, for everyone to hear- told the mother, her son was dead because of her idiocy of not relaying important medical information, for the sake of not tarnishing his medical records.

Things had been difficult for him lately, Cuddy understood. She tried reminding herself of that fact, while taking a deep breath and looking up at the increasingly irritant House, and studied as he massaged his mutilated thigh, no doubt attempting to make some of the pain go away.

"You owe the mother an apology."

He scoffed, "Yeah. I'll get right on that."

She closed her eyes and sighed, "House. Maybe…you should think about talking to someone about your-"

"-My need for sex?- I was thinking about it- are you free?" He'd scrunched up his nose in a mocking way.

She huffed, "No- your pain. Ever since Stacy left, your leg has created this fantom pain-"

"-Psychosomatic pain? _Maybe_ you should butt your rotundas ass out."

Cuddy rolled her eyes and crossed her arms, "You're _pain_ is affecting your job."

He screwed up his face in complete shock, "Yeah. Because it _hurts_."

"We both know it's because of Stacy- psychosomatic. Or do you not remember the syringe full of saline I plunged down your back?"

She was convinced what Cameron had shared with her was wrong- House was not the type of person who'd kill himself- but even if there was a chance of it, Cuddy knew she had to make him see that he could handle it.

In front of her, House took a deep breath and exhaled with his head turned up, then let out a bout of air and looked back down at her, "What I need is more Vicodin."

She studied him. The bags he carried under his eyes where darker, his color a bit off, she couldn't deny that. But most of his pain, she reminded herself- came from the depression he denied, and Vicodin was his way to deal with it- a way to forget he'd turned down a life with Stacy- a way to numb himself. And he had to see that it was just that- sadness, not unbearable pain which only death could abate.

"You're an addict. You need help."

He brought a hand to his face and massaged it for a moment, "I'm a pain patient who needs pain medication."

The way he carried himself, Cuddy could tell he wasn't going to give in, and they would continue to go in circles, "Well why don't you ask Wilson?"

"I'd have better luck wishing it away."

A notification popped up on her Blackberry and Cuddy was reminded of her meeting with the board. She turned off the notification and began walking towards his office door, "That's not a bad idea- I hear there's going to be a week long meteor shower- maybe you should wish it on a star."

As she walked out of his office, she momentarily regretted what she'd said, but then found herself wishing she could understand what was really going through his mind.

xxxoxxxo

There was a distance of thirty-five feet between the glass doors of the hospital and his bike, yet House was unsure of whether or not he could make it. But the thought of admitting that, and getting a wheelchair was worse.

With every step, he gripped his cane harder, feeling at any moment his leg would finally give out, and he'd fall face first onto the pavement. Then, the thought of having to be helped by some nurse or one of his lackeys depressed him even more.

And so he mentally sucked up the doubt in his mind and began to wobble towards his bike. Half way, he fell down onto a wooden bench, huffing while closing his eyes, and tilted his head to the sky, laboring his breathing.

He felt so…angry. Ticked off at Stacy, annoyed at Cuddy, at Wilson- his team- everything. It frustrated him that they all thought his pain was a joke- an onset of his sad repressed feelings. They just didn't get it, they didn't feel what he went through- the pain he dealt with every day, and why he popped so many pills. It was to keep the torment at bay.

And Cuddy, the one person who should have, if not understood, at least felt some sense of remorse had given him a look of disgust- it stung, surprisingly.

 _If she only understood- If she could only feel it,_ House thought, before opening his eyes and watching a star shoot across the night sky.

xxxoxxxo

 _Next Morning_

A loud, terrifying clicking noise woke up House, and he groggily shot up his head, thinking it was the fire alarm in the apartment. For a moment, he wondered if he'd left a lit cigar on his coffee table again- he'd had a hard time last time with his landlord when the fire department had shown up at 4 in the morning.

Instead, the light emitting from an unfamiliar window confused him, and he rubbed his eyes to adjust his sight. Then he realized the noise was coming from a device on a coffee table which was also unrecognizable. Slowly, his blurred vision adjusted and he looked around the room- trying to place where he was. From the decor, it was easy to see that the bed he'd ended up in belonged to a woman- and felt a small comfort in it. He only hoped she was at least single, he'd learned his lesson about sleeping over at a married woman's home.

House fumbled with the phone until the shrieking ended, and slowly got up with a yawn, wondering how much he'd drank the night before, because he found his memory blank- it hadn't been that much, right?

As he passed a dresser in the bedroom though, a picture stopped him in his tracks and he looked closely at the photo in question. There, next to her father, stood Lisa Cuddy, with a broad smile.

His heart raced. Had he slept with Cuddy? Of all people?

In a hurry to search for his clothes and leave, House realized they weren't anywhere to be found, but more than that- his cane was absent. And the most astonishing realization came next- his normal chronic thigh pain was gone as well.

And as he turned his head down to peer at his mutilated leg, he found an unfamiliar one looking back.

The pounding in his chest intensified, and House sprinted towards Cuddy's bathroom to look in the mirror, terrified at what might stare back. His fingers fumbled with the light switch and scared, he closed his eyes as he took the three steps to stand in front of her vanity and mirror.

He rested for a few moments, and took his time before slowly opening both eyes to look at himself, but as he did, an unfamiliar hi-pitch screech escaped his lips and his head became light. Because the body before him, was none other than Dr Lisa Cuddy.

His hands went to his cheeks- or Cuddy's cheeks and massaged them, pulling and pinching- hoping it was just some weird side-effects of his pills or something else he might've taken. But no matter how many times he slapped Cuddy's face, or pinched her shoulders- nothing except pain- happened, her face remained, which prompted his next question.

If he was in Cuddy's body, who was in his?

xxxoxxxo

 _Meanwhile on Baker Street_

Cuddy woke up to the worst pain in her life...

* * *

TBC


End file.
